


Acceptance

by TheGameIsOn_Geronimo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A little bit anyway, Acephobia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aroace Merlin, Aromantic Merlin, Asexual Merlin (Merlin), Character Study, Gen, Internalized Acephobia, Introspection, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Some Fluff and Humour too, Supportive everyone (eventually)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo/pseuds/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo
Summary: Merlin has never felt romantic love before. Merlin has never desired sex before. Merlin barely even thinks about those things.Then, Merlin comes to Camelot, and he realises he may be different from other people.Somewhere along the way, he learns to accept himself.
Relationships: Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 95





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, it's been a while!  
> And now I have a long Author's Note for you all (sorry):  
> I was worried about writing this story, and even more worried about posting it. However, it was a fic that I wanted to see myself and one that I thought others might want to see too, so I decided to take a stab at writing it.  
> I am aware that sexuality is a sensitive and personal topic, and I know that the terms aromantic and asexual both include a whole spectrum of experiences and sexualities within them. This fic is based on my own feelings (I’m fairly sure I’m somewhere on the ace spectrum), things I’ve read online from other people, and some artistic license. That being said, if there is anything in this fic that you find incorrect, or more importantly offensive, then PLEASE let me know and I’ll try to fix it. The last thing I want to do is hurt people.  
> As a warning relating to that, there is some internalised acephobia in this fic when Merlin is questioning himself, and some acephobia from other people mainly because of ignorance and misunderstandings. All of those things get sorted out by the end though.  
> Finally, I don’t use the terms aromantic and asexual in the fic, because I’m guessing in Arthurian times those terms didn’t exist. I may be completely wrong though.  
> This was partly originally inspired by [this](https://gwen-cheers-me-up.tumblr.com/post/634149714553651200/i-feel-like-as-a-fandom-were-really-sleeping-on) tumblr post.  
> And now I’ve finished talking, I really hope you enjoy the fic and if you notice any errors feel free to let me know!  
> Thank you for reading!

Merlin had never really thought about it that much before. Growing up in Ealdor, there were more important things to think about, like planning for the harvest and figuring out a way to get enough food for everyone in the village. There also weren’t many other children his own age, and therefore not many people to even think about in _that_ way. So, Merlin just _didn’t_. Even when Will started to mention it every now and again, Merlin just kind of nodded in agreement and then changed the subject to a fun new game they could play.

But then he comes to Camelot and suddenly it’s like that’s all people talk about. Maybe it’s because there are more people here in the big city, or maybe he just notices it more, but either way it seems to be _everywhere_.

Only weeks into his stay he announces that he’s a sorcerer to the whole council and what does Arthur say to it?

_‘He’s in love?!’_

What the hell does that have to do with anything? Also, he most definitely is not. He thinks. His mother always said he would know love when he felt it, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt anything different recently. He likes Gwen, a lot, but he doesn’t love her for god’s sake.

He forgets about it fairly quickly however, mainly because he’s self-righteously insulted that even when he declared himself a sorcerer, no one actually believed him. He really is debating getting a pointy hat.

But then they kill the afanc and Morgana is raising her eyebrows at him and telling him she’ll keep his secret, which fills him with so much relief he doesn’t know what to say, until she says he loves Gwen too. He doesn’t know what to say to that either, so he just wanders back to Gaius’ chambers feeling confused and wondering what it is he’s done that has made people think he’s fallen madly in love with Gwen.

The thought doesn’t bother him per se, it just doesn’t feel right. He likes Gwen as a friend, and yet everyone seems to see romance between them. He decides to just ignore it, and hope other people will forget about it too.

It works well enough until Merlin has to drink poison for Arthur. When he wakes up again, feeling achy and exhausted and rough, Gwen presses her lips to his in a kiss. He freezes in surprise for a moment, knowing instinctively that he should be reacting. His mind scrambles desperately for a response, but before it can find one, Gwen is pulling away and looking embarrassed. He says it was ‘fine’, mind spinning in shock, and then changes it to ‘more than fine’ so Gwen doesn’t feel insulted, and doesn’t know how to say that it just felt kind of weird.

His mind keeps drifting back to the kiss – his _first_ kiss – all evening, and it makes him think about feelings and desires and things that adults used to say he would understand when he’s older. All he can really conclude is a confused _huh_ , because he doesn’t think he feels anything like that for Gwen. Because he doesn’t really want to kiss her again. Because he doesn’t think he understands those feelings any more than he did years ago, and that might mean something.

*

After that, Lancelot turns up in Camelot and saves Merlin’s life. Merlin is just happy to have a new, loyal friend and tries to help him with his dream of becoming a Knight. Part of that involves introducing him to Gwen so he can get some decent armour, and he’s glad that him and Gwen seem to get on so well. It’s nice when your friends like each other too.

What he doesn’t really understand is why Lancelot asks him whether him and Gwen are… Well, he doesn’t really give it a name but Merlin assumes that he means in a relationship, because people always seem to go a bit tongue-tied when asking questions like that. It reminds Merlin of the kiss and Arthur and Morgana assuming the same thing, so he immediately tells him that they’re ‘just friends’ and doesn’t notice Lancelot’s relieved little smile at the information.

From then on, things go a bit crazy and him and Lancelot end up killing a griffin together. Merlin watches him ride away from Camelot with a sense of loss and the belief that they’ll most likely meet again. Then, doing his chores in the afternoon, he spies Gwen sitting on the steps looking upset, and he hurries over to her.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, confused and worried, and she just tells him she misses Lancelot, and suddenly everything is different than the way Merlin thought it was. Gwen is far more upset than is warranted for losing a friend they had only known for a few days, eyes sad and slightly ringed in red.

Merlin’s mind backtracks over everything he’s seen. He thinks of Gwen blushing and shy while taking Lancelot’s measurements, thinks of the way she wouldn’t give him a straight answer to his jokey question of whether she’d choose Arthur or Lancelot. Gwen _loves_ Lancelot, he realises, and the realisation hits him like a tonne of bricks. He feels himself flounder slightly, before pulling himself together enough to comfort Gwen and send her off to the rest of her chores with a smile on her face.

He stands for a few more minutes in the courtyard, watching her leave. She fell in love with Lancelot so quickly that he can’t quite wrap his head around it. She’s the first person he’s been close to that he’s seen actively fall in love, and it took, what, a couple of days? That was actually a thing? People actually feel like that? He frowns after her, mind whirring, and he can’t help but think, privately and silently, that he has never felt like that about anyone, ever.

*

The thing is, Merlin knows intellectually that people fall in love. That’s just what people _do_. And then typically they get married, and have sex and then maybe have children and that’s life. That’s how it is.

He saw it in Ealdor a bit, or at least he saw some courting and a couple of weddings and some children being born, but it was a small village and it didn’t happen very often. Here, in Camelot he can’t seem to escape it. He helps Gaius when he goes to deliver babies in the lower town, he watches farmers give their partners gifts between the market stalls, and he also watches Prince Arthur fall madly in love with a woman called Sophia.

It seems to happen so quickly, which is exactly what he thought with Gwen and Lancelot, but then again he isn’t an expert in these things. Maybe there really is such a thing as love at first sight. He certainly wouldn’t know.

One minute they’re saving Sophia and her father from bandits, and the next Arthur is making sure Sophia is properly looked after and they’re giving each other _looks_. Merlin half finds it amusing, but also finds it very confusing. How can Arthur instantly know that Sophia is someone he wants to pursue? Is it her appearance? Is it her personality? It really doesn’t make sense to him, but he’s happy to tease Arthur about it all the same.

And because he’s trying to bond with Arthur and be a good servant, he even agrees to _lie_ to the _King_ about Arthur skipping his duties. And then gets put in the stocks. Multiple times. This gives Merlin a lot of time to think about it, and he still can’t really make the dots connect. Arthur said ‘What’s not to like about her?’ and Merlin had to bite his tongue to stop himself pointing out that he’s known her for literally a day and therefore there might be quite a lot of things not to like about her.

After that, Arthur announces they’re going to get _married_ , and Merlin thinks that it is definitely too early to make that decision, even if he doesn’t know much about romance. Luckily, the whole court seems to agree with him on this front, and Uther actively forbids anything happening between them. Sadly, as usual, Arthur is a complete prat and they elope anyway.

Ultimately, it turns out Arthur was under a spell cast by Sophia. Merlin is both worried and strangely relieved by this news. Worried, because how is Merlin supposed to keep Arthur safe from pretty women who want to seduce him so they can sacrifice him for immortality? And relieved, because thank goodness not everyone falls in love that quickly and deeply. Because that would be insane, and because Merlin doesn’t want to consider why that has never happened to him.

*

From then on, Camelot seems to calm down in the romance department. It doesn’t calm down in the general department, because Camelot is insanely dangerous and there are unicorn curses, questing beasts and evil dead sorcerers coming back to life to deal with.

Merlin is kept busy enough that he can forget about his confusion and questions relating to romance, and just tries to keep his head down and protect Arthur from the multitude of things that want to kill him. It really is a full-time job, this destiny lark.

Romance doesn’t pop up again until the jousting tournament. Gwen agrees to let Arthur stay in her home while he pretends to be out on some quest, because she is a saint and too nice for this world. Merlin helps out as best as he can, providing clothes and news from the Citadel, and just lets them get on with it. Maybe it was foolish to think that Arthur had the faintest idea how the lower classes lived, but Merlin truly thought no-one could be that ignorant.

But then Gwen mutters to him about how rude Arthur is being, and before he knows it, he’s bumping into Gwen in the street and she’s saying Arthur is _cooking her dinner_ , and Merlin just has to witness this for himself because it is going to be too funny. And it is, in a way. Arthur is completely clueless and awkward, and it’s hilarious how much he wants to impress Gwen to make up for all the hardships he’s put her through. Merlin leaves the palace meals with him with a grin and a teasing comment, and just thinks it’s nice how his two friends are caring for each other.

The next day however, Arthur has a piece of cloth wrapped around his arm like he would if it was a favour given to him by a lover. Merlin knows for a fact that Arthur has only seen Gwen in the last few hours, because of the assassin in Camelot, and that makes him think about the scene he burst in on last night. How Arthur’s hand was lightly gripping Gwen’s wrist. How they were looking at each other like there was something massive to say. How there was a tension in the room that he didn’t pay any attention to as he was too busy giving warnings about murderers in Camelot.

It makes him stop stock still in his task of sharpening swords, breath hitching slightly in surprise, as his eyes find Gwen sitting in the stands, worriedly watching Arthur compete. For a moment he feels nothing but blank shock, and then it dissolves into confusion and frustration at himself for not noticing, but also into a certain feeling of rightness, like he knows deep down that Gwen and Arthur are meant for each other.

Gwen and Arthur, he thinks. _Arthur and Gwen_. Together. Romantically together. He can’t really comprehend the words properly, but they are real. At least to some extent. He doesn’t know how much they’ve told each other, whether they’ve kissed, or pronounced their undying love to each other, but it doesn’t matter to him, because their romance is still real. It exists, in a way that he has never experienced before.

Beyond his initial thoughts there isn’t much time to think. It turns out that the assassin is jousting against Arthur, and then Arthur gets injured, and Merlin has to use magic to save him _again_.

It doesn’t occur to him again until later that evening, once Arthur has proved himself to be more humble than Merlin has ever seen him, and he’s back in his room. He thinks of them together as more than friends, turns it over and over in his mind. He wonders how they know that they feel like that for each other, wonders how they know how to act on it. He wonders whether he will ever feel like that about someone, and then decides that even if he doesn’t, he’ll try and help make sure Arthur and Gwen are happy together in the future.

*

It turns out that flowers are often used as a romantic gesture. Merlin is sure he knew this on some level, he had just never thought about it properly before. He isn’t sure how they’re romantic, or why they have gained that image, but that seems to be the case.

He delivers some to Morgana, because she’s having probably the worst time of her life, and Merlin knows what it is to doubt and fear who you are and the power inside you that sometimes feels too powerful to control. He’s trying to be _nice_ and supportive, and hopefully make her feel better. But then Gwen is giving him a soft look when he hands over the bouquet, and he knows instinctively to hide them from Arthur, and then just to prove his point, Arthur starts teasing him about delivering flowers to Morgana.

‘Is she the only one to receive a token of your affections?’ Arthur asks, like Morgana isn’t having an awful time and needs cheering up. Like Merlin’s ‘affections’ are somehow communicated through the flowers he gave her. Like Merlin even has ‘affections’ for Morgana. She’s beautiful, yes, even he can tell that, but he doesn’t feel affection for her. As a friend maybe, a kindred spirit with magic, but nothing more than that.

He tells Arthur the truth, that they were not tokens of anything, and that he didn’t want Arthur to get the wrong impression (because that is obviously what is happening right now, and Merlin just does not understand it). And he says he was just trying to be nice, which he _was_ , but now Arthur is giving him a raised eyebrow and a teasing grin and Merlin just _doesn’t get it_. Since when was giving flowers to someone specifically a romantic gesture? Since when did he have to explain himself trying to be nice to someone? Since when did every little thing become related to romance, and in turn become so bloody complicated?

Merlin doesn’t get it at all, and to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t think he ever will.

*

A few months later, Merlin and Arthur go to rescue Gwen from Hengist when he mistakes her for Morgana. What they find, after a long journey of Arthur being very worried about Gwen while Merlin tries not to be too amused by his protective streak, is Gwen (thankfully), a wilddeoren (ew), and Lancelot (surprisingly). Merlin is happy to see his friend again, but can’t help but notice the tension that falls onto the group when Arthur sees Lancelot holding Gwen’s hand.

Merlin is pretty sure something has changed in Gwen and Lancelot’s relationship, although whether it’s due to them being in a desperate near-death experience together, or because they’ve both loved each other for years without seeing one another, he can’t really tell. What is does mean, is that with Arthur and Gwen having realised their feelings for each other, there is now a major problem.

Merlin doesn’t think he’s qualified to deal with this bullshit.

He spent the journey to rescue Gwen convincing Arthur that he and Gwen could be together despite what his father says, because he’s trying to be supportive and he really thinks they deserve and suit each other. But now there is a spanner in the works, because Gwen seems to have the ability to love not just Arthur, but Lancelot too. Merlin hopes all of his efforts haven’t been wasted.

Once they get to a safe place to camp, the strange unresolved tension hovering between Arthur, Lancelot, and Gwen has reached almost suffocating levels. Merlin skirts around the edge of it, not really sure who he should be speaking to first to fix this, and then ultimately doesn’t have to choose as they all decide to retire to bed, leaving him tending the fire alone. Merlin decides, in that moment, that love is overrated, complicated and far too chaotic for his liking.

Finally, he decides to speak to Lancelot who offered to stand guard. They talk, and Lancelot realises that Arthur has feelings for Gwen. When Merlin asks him if he does too (just so he knows he’s on the right page, because you never know, maybe he’s reading everything wrong), he confirms it, and then is stupidly loyal and selfless and decides that he won’t get in between Arthur and Gwen. Merlin watches him leave the camp with dejected, hunched shoulders and without a backwards glance, and doesn’t know what to feel.

When Gwen wakes in the morning and she finds out Lancelot has left, Merlin tells her what Lancelot told him to tell her – that’s she’s changed him forever and some things cannot be. He tries to ignore the tears that prick into her eyes, and suddenly he knows what to feel. He feels angry that love and romance seem to make the people he cares about so miserable, and he’s upset himself that he can’t do anything to help. It seems that love often has no simple solution.

*

So, love is complicated and difficult and it can be brilliant or it can cause intense pain. These are the conclusions Merlin has come to. He also comes to the conclusion that love can be absolutely hilarious. Because Uther is in love with a troll.

_Uther_ is _in love_ with a _troll_.

Honestly, he’s having a stressful time in Camelot, so he is definitely allowed to laugh at this. It’s really funny.

It’s also really kind of worrying and disturbing. Because a troll wants to become Queen of Camelot, and Merlin is pretty sure he doesn’t even need the dragon to tell him that that would be bad with a capital B.

Ultimately, they figure it out by poisoning Arthur so he nearly dies, which makes Uther cry properly and that breaks the spell that makes him unable to see Catrina’s true nature. Just another day in Camelot, and saving Arthur’s royal backside. No problem.

Except that Merlin can’t get it out of his head. Gaius is given the enchanted amulet to investigate afterwards, and the traces of the spell on it indicate that it wasn’t meant to _create_ feelings, it was just meant to _enhance_ them and make them all-consuming. That would mean Uther would listen and agree to everything Catrina said, and be unable to see her troll appearance.

But it also means, and this is where Merlin feels like he loses the plot entirely, that Uther felt romantic and potentially sexual love for Catrina within about two days of knowing her. Merlin really doesn’t understand it. This is like what happened with Gwen and Lancelot, and Arthur and Sophia before she enchanted him, and Merlin just _does not get it_. It feels too sudden, too big, too important. With Arthur and Gwen he had kind of managed to put it aside as them being young and kind and therefore having a lot of love to give, but he has never seen Uther be compassionate about anything, and yet there he was, falling in love with a princess.

It just doesn’t make sense to Merlin, and before he had thought that falling in love that quickly just _couldn’t be a real thing_ , and yet now he has a lot of evidence to the contrary. And it makes him so confused, because if that is real, then why hasn’t he felt anything like it before? He doesn’t think he’s ever fallen in love with anyone, and even though he isn’t sure what that feels like, he hopes that even he would know it when it happens. He doesn’t even think he’s felt lust for anyone, never looked at someone around him and thought _yes, that one_ , and decided to pursue them. And yet, in Camelot, that is exactly what has happened to a lot of his friends. It really doesn’t make any sense.

*

Merlin rescues a druid girl from a bounty hunter. It just kind of happens, because he sees someone like him locked into a cage and anger burns within him and he knows he needs to help her. So, he breaks the locks and the chains and pulls her to the tunnels under the castle.

And then there’s Freya, curled tight into a ball, pressed as close to the wall as she can in the flickering candlelight. Merlin feels his heart go out to her, wants to help her in any way he can, and make her realise that she isn’t evil, that magic isn’t a curse and that it can really be something beautiful.

So, he does. It gets him in trouble with Gaius and Arthur, but he brings her food and blankets and he makes her a rose, and somewhere along the way he thinks, _Maybe this is love?_ It doesn’t feel as all-consuming and incredible as everyone makes it out to be. It feels more like warmth, and finding a kindred spirit who knows what it is to keep a secret and be an outcast. He doesn’t know what proper love feels like, so he just hopes, _maybe, maybe._

And then when they’re pressed together in the dark, when there’s only a candle to illuminate the tears in her eyes, when Freya says, ‘You’re not scared of me’, Merlin does the only thing he can think of. Because this is what happens when you love someone, right? You comfort them, and tell them they’re special when they think they’re a monster, and you kiss them. Because that’s what happens. And Merlin feels such intense relief and joy that something like this has happened to him, he can barely contain it, annoying Gaius with his humming and fidgeting. He thinks this is finally it, that he can finally know that he did only have to wait for the right person to come along for him to find love.

He very carefully doesn’t think about how the kiss didn’t feel amazing, didn’t raise butterflies in his stomach, and only felt like offering comfort to someone who was desperately asking for it.

He thinks, very determinedly, that this is it.

But then it all falls apart. Then Freya dies, and Merlin crumbles.

He takes her to the lake, lays her on the bank and feels his heart breaking. He wonders whether this is love, thinks back to the lowered head of Lancelot as he walked away from their camp, remembers Gwen’s tears when she realised she wouldn’t see Lancelot again, remembers Arthur’s frustration at being kept from loving Gwen by rank and tradition. Love _hurts_ , that’s what he has learnt, and this hurts like nothing he has ever felt before.

Afterwards, he sits in the mud on the bank and looks over the still water, arms wrapped around his legs. He thinks of mountains and meadows and a couple of cows and feels the dream slipping through his fingers like water held in cupped palms. He thinks about how in that dream it was the two of them together, but he never imagined marriage or sex or children. He thinks that he only dreamt of being away from Camelot, in a place where destiny didn’t control his every move, with someone who would never judge him or hurt him for his magic. Somewhere where he could be himself. Somewhere where he wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

It makes his limbs feel heavy, makes his chest ache and his breath hitch. He doesn’t know if he loved Freya, and will never get the opportunity to find out if they could have been something beautiful together, but he does think maybe he got swept away by the situation, made up feelings that weren’t completely true, made them stronger than they were, because he thought that was how it was supposed to be.

Later, many years later, when he’s more accepting and understanding of himself, he’ll realise he did love Freya, just not in the way he originally thought. Maybe there were aspects of romance there, but he loved her as a friend, someone who admired him, someone who was amazed by his magic and someone he could help. He loved her as someone he could run away with, and live a peaceful life where no curses or prejudiced kings or execution axes could hurt them. He loved her like a dream, one that you wish you didn’t have to wake up from.

He clutches his legs tighter to his chest, and buries his face in his knees. This felt like an opportunity, and he can’t help but think it’s proven something final within him. He doesn’t think he can feel romantic love, or any of the other things that come with it and it aches and aches and _aches_ , because what can he do now? If he couldn’t love Freya, then who else could he possibly love? What can he possibly hope for in the future if he won’t have a wife or children or anyone else? And more importantly, why can’t he feel the way other people do? Is there something wrong within him? Something broken within his heart?

It doesn’t bear thinking about, and he drags himself up from the mud and heads back to Camelot, head bowed under the weight of grief. He isn’t sure whether the grief is more for the loss of Freya, or for the loss of the dream of freedom, and he hates himself for even having to wonder which one it is.

*

Despite having an internal personal crisis, Camelot still decides to be Camelot in that Arthur’s life is at risk _again_ in increasingly imaginative ways. Barely a month has gone by since Freya when the Vivian incident occurs, and Merlin would really like to send out a notice to everyone in the world begging them to _please_ stop making Arthur fall in love with different people.

In Merlin’s defence, Arthur was never explicit in who he was having romantic feelings for. He got out of bed like the best things in the world had happened, and then proceeded to ask _Merlin_ advice on how to express his feelings. Obviously, Merlin assumes that he means Gwen, because that’s the main person he knows Arthur has feelings for, and helpfully suggests flowers as he was made abundantly aware by Arthur himself that flowers were romantic.

He just gives them to the wrong person. Oops.

Because it turns out Arthur has been dosed with a love potion and has now fallen head-over-heels in love with the obnoxious princess, Vivian, and has to fight her father because he’s disgraced her honour. Honestly, Merlin can’t make this stuff up.

It is both terribly frustrating and also very upsetting, because he knows he’s caused Gwen pain through his misunderstanding, and he has just had enough of any spells and potions that create ‘love’. It is especially aggravating because he has been questioning his own feelings and lack thereof since Freya died, and would really rather forget about the whole issue.

Instead, as usual, it falls to him to save Arthur’s life, and he has to _beg_ Gwen to go and speak to Arthur to break the spell, while explaining what he knows to be true about Arthur’s feelings for her. It’s hard to put into words something he has never actually felt, but the message seems to get through, and he watches through the tent flaps as Gwen kisses him and thankfully breaks the enchantment.

Merlin watches them almost melt into each other, watches Gwen’s hand trace Arthur’s cheek, sees the devotion in Arthur’s eyes when they slide open, hears Arthur’s love for Gwen when he speaks about her, and it _hurts_. Like a knife plunged deep into his gut, sharp and breath-taking, because he thinks he’s realised that he can’t feel love like that, but he doesn’t understand _why_. Is there something mis-aligned within him? An abnormality that he has never noticed before. Could he rip it out if he wanted and feel things like other people seem to, or will he always be like this?

It doesn’t seem fair. It feels like he’s missing something essential. Something that so many people strive to and view as success. If he can’t love, then what would the future hold for him? Would anyone be able to accept the fact that he couldn’t feel things other people could? And if they couldn’t, would that mean he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life?

It feels like an absence, like he dropped something a long time ago and lost it forever. It feels wrong and yet his questioning thoughts about not desiring love and sex feel oddly right, like they fit in with the idea of himself, like he’s figured it out correctly. It also feels incredibly, astoundingly lonely.

*

And then there’s Gwaine.

Now, Merlin knows that Gwaine is objectively handsome, he has eyes for goodness sake. And he knows that Gwaine is a flirt, as proved by how he stretched in Merlin’s bed, showing off his bare chest when he first regained consciousness. He knows that his appearance in Camelot causes a bit of a stir, as he hears servants muttering about him and shooting him glances when he passes, and he catches Gwaine trying to offer a flower to people in the lower town when he’s helping Gaius with his rounds.

He knows all that. He knows that Gwaine could have pretty much any servant in the Citadel if he wanted them, and yet somehow, in a way that Merlin definitely doesn’t understand, Gwaine wants _him_.

He doesn’t notice it at first, the looks and the smirks and yeah okay the _flirting_ , because he thinks that’s just how Gwaine is with everyone. He doesn’t see the difference in his behaviour with Merlin and anyone else. So, when a few nights into Gwaine’s stay, when Gaius is out late in the lower town, Gwaine asks him to ‘come to bed.’, Merlin doesn’t think anything of it. He’s tired, he’s had a long day of helping the rude knights that have arrived in Camelot, and Merlin and Gwaine have been sharing his room, with Merlin graciously giving up his bed for the injured man.

They head up to Merlin’s small room, and Gwaine closes the door behind them, and then he gestures to the bed, and Merlin sits down, leaning back slightly and wondering whether Gwaine wants to chat more, or play some dice or something before bed.

But then Gwaine is approaching him, with a hungry look in his eyes, and he moves in-between Merlin’s legs, pushing them further apart slightly, so he’s standing above Merlin, looking down at him. Merlin instantly feels alert, body tensing as he takes in how _close_ Gwaine is to him. He’s confused too, not sure what Gwaine is playing at, until Gwaine suddenly raises a hand and takes hold of his cheek and leans his head in to kiss Merlin’s mouth with his warm, soft lips.

Merlin jerks like he’s been struck by lightning, legs pulling up off the floor as he tries to scramble backwards and ends up falling straight over the other side of the bed. He lays there for a few moments, heart hammering in surprise and confusion, and then he stumbles to his feet and looks towards Gwaine, hoping for some kind of explanation while panic cools in his stomach.

Gwaine is standing where he left him, arms still slightly outstretched and looking vaguely shell-shocked.

‘Merlin?’ he asks, tentatively, sounding worried and unsure.

Merlin splutters, ‘What the hell?’ he demands, and Gwaine blinks, and then seems to pull himself together and drops his hands back to his sides. He gives Merlin a small, self-deprecating smile, and then mumbles in a tone that’s aiming for joking,

‘Guess I got the wrong end of the stick, huh?’

Merlin gapes at him for a few more seconds, because he’s so muddled and shocked. Because Gwaine just tried to _kiss him_ , and he’s pretty sure he would have gone further than that if Merlin had let him.

He manages to splutter out a ‘What?’, and idly wonders what he looks like, wide-eyed and flushed and panting like he’s run all the way to the lower town.

He only agreed to come up to bed for God’s sake, and he doesn’t think he’s been flirting with Gwaine. He’s certainly never thought about having _sex_ with the man, and for that matter never thought about having sex with _anyone_ , so how are they here? With Gwaine thinking this is something he wants? How did this _happen_?

‘Sorry,’ Gwaine says, expression becoming concerned as he seems to notice how shaken and surprised Merlin is, ‘I thought this was something you wanted. I guess I messed up, sorry.’

Merlin shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says slowly, as though he’s feeling out the word, ‘I mean,’ he stutters slightly at Gwaine’s dejected look, there and gone again in a flash, ‘I’m sure you’re great, at all that’ and he waves his hand vaguely towards the bed, ‘I just-‘ He doesn’t even know what to say. How to word it. ‘No.’ he settles on, surer than before. He hopes that’s enough, hopes that Gwaine won’t demand an explanation that he doesn’t have.

He should have known Gwaine would be honourable and kind about this sort of thing. He instantly relaxes and smiles at him and accepts his refusal to want to do anything.

‘Okay, that’s fine.’ He says simply, ‘I’m sorry again though.’ And Merlin can only nod slightly, and give him a strained smile to show there are no hard feelings between them, and he’s grateful for Gwaine’s acceptance.

They get ready for bed in silence. It isn’t awkward per se, but there is a slight bit of tension between them, and Merlin struggles to think of what he can say to make it better.

He’s about to snuff out the last candle when he thinks of it. He looks at the lonely pile of blankets on the hard, uncomfortable floor where he’s about to settle down for bed, and then looks towards his bed where Gwaine is situating himself under the blanket. He takes a deep breath and then says, voice unsure and nervous.

‘I don’t want to have sex with you.’ Gwaine’s eyes snap up to meet his, ‘But I’m happy to share the bed if you want?’ Because it sounds nice to have a body next to his as he sleeps. Because he imagines it’s warm and snuggly. Because this is the only sort of intimacy he thinks he can offer Gwaine at this point.

Gwaine looks at him sharply, eyes raking over his expression and obviously trying to find the honesty in his words, and Merlin is so _grateful_ , because it shows him Gwaine won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

He must find some kind of truth in Merlin’s face, because he smiles brightly at him, and then flicks open the side of the blanket. Merlin grabs the rest of his sheets from the floor, and then lays on the bed next to him, arranging the blankets over them. They lie there, sides pressed together in the centre of the bed, and both of them overhanging slightly on the other sides as the bed is so small. Merlin can instantly feel the difference in temperature with two bodies under the sheets, and he relaxes imperceptivity as the minutes slip past.

After a moment, Gwaine rolls over. Merlin can feel his hair tickling his neck on the pillow, feels his head rest on Merlin’s shoulder.

‘Is this alright?’ Gwaine asks softly through the darkness, and Merlin says ‘yes.’ Because it is. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close or intimate with another person. He’s certainly never shared a bed with someone. But it feels nice, and comforting, and secure, and Merlin doesn’t mind it.

He listens to Gwaine’s breaths slow and deepen into sleep, but his eyes keep tracing the dark ceiling above him. Since Freya, he had pondered whether he was attracted to men rather than women, whether that was the reason he had never fallen in love like Arthur always seemed to. Tonight seemed to give a lot of evidence against that theory, because surely if he was attracted to men he would be attracted to Gwaine in some way, and would therefore be open to kissing and sex and anything else he wanted to do? Instead, he had only felt panic and confusion, both of which he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to feel when someone was seducing you.

Which means what? He wonders. He doesn’t want sex with women and he doesn’t want sex with men, and as far as he can tell he has never wanted sex with anyone. Is that normal? Is that a thing? He had always thought that a desire for sex was just ingrained within humanity, a leftover of biology that wants species to continue into the future, so does that mean not wanting it makes him different or abnormal? His eyes track over the cracks in the stone above his bed, as he lays out the facts that he knows.

_I have never been in love. I do not want sex. I have never wanted sex_. He swallows against a weight in his throat, tries to ignore the nerves coiling in his belly. He’s not broken, he tells himself firmly, even though he’s not sure he believes it. He’s just different, and that’s okay.

*

By managing to figure out that he has never and will likely never experience romantic or sexual attraction, it gives him an opportunity to step away from his darker thoughts and look upon other people’s feelings as a spectator. And what he finds, is that love can be incredibly amusing when you’re not involved in it.

It’s funny to watch Arthur have to try and get to know Elena when she comes to visit and their fathers want them to marry. It’s fun to tease him about it, leave them alone for a while so Arthur has to try and be charming and only ends up being awkward. It’s something to laugh at, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to find something entertaining about romance, as it gives him a good distraction to stop himself internally panicking whenever love comes up in conversation.

Of course, there is still one major problem, and that is the fact that Arthur and Gwen need to get together, not Arthur and Elena. Merlin has no hard feelings against the Princess (apart from the fact she was part-fairy, but that wasn’t exactly her fault), and so he doesn’t blame her for anything. She’s just another obstacle in the long and winding road that is Gwen and Arthur’s courtship. He knows that it’s them that need to be together, he can feel it like it’s rooted in his bones. He knows that they are the future, because they love each other, and what is love if it isn’t being with the person you care about the most?

Ultimately, once Merlin has figured out all the changeling stuff, it’s actually Arthur who figures out the romance thing. He’s noble and follows his heart, and thankfully Elena is on the same page as him, and they part ways easily and happily as friends. Merlin is so proud of him (although he’s not going to tell him that), and that’s when Merlin has a realization.

Because he _loves_ Arthur. It’s not romantic or sexual love. He doesn’t want to see Arthur naked, or kiss him, or stroke his hair or anything, but he loves him as a friend, as the other half of his destiny, even maybe as a brother at times (when he’s not being an obnoxious prat). He wants him to be successful, and admires him, and loves him for following his heart and going against his father because he believes lessons that he has been taught all of his life are wrong. It’s warm and electrifying and beautiful, and it is definitely love even though it’s not the sort of love he’s been thinking about so much recently.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t realise it sooner. He isn’t devoid of love. He doesn’t just _not feel_. He loves his mother as his only blood family and for all the care she gives him. He loves Gaius as a father and a mentor. He loves Gwen as a best friend, someone to laugh with and commiserate with and to always offer a smile to when they pass in the hallway. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want sex or a romantic relationship, because he has people he loves in his life, and they love him back in platonic ways.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. There are still dark thoughts hidden in his mind, and he knows that on cold, lonely nights they might rise to the surface and make themselves known, but right now, he can be happy in himself, knowing that he has people he is close to, who care about him, and who he can love with his whole being.

*

Merlin’s path to acceptance comes with many doubts and realisations and questions, but he thinks that’s probably normal. He simply tries to be honest with himself, and keep away from the self-loathing voices that whisper poison into his brain.

One thing that he takes comfort from is Gaius. He isn’t sure when he notices it, or why he didn’t notice it before, but one day he was eating breakfast and he looked up at Gaius puttering around the room getting ready for his rounds, and it hit him: Gaius was on his own.

As far as Merlin knew, Gaius didn’t have any family, or significant others, and he had never heard stories about him having any in the past. Did that mean that maybe Gaius was like him? He loved his patients, and he loved Merlin, and Merlin was pretty sure he loved Uther in a strange, loyal way, but maybe he didn’t feel romance or anything like that? Maybe Merlin wasn’t alone. It was a comforting thought, and one Merlin kept close to his heart as he went about his chores, promising himself that one day he would be brave enough to speak to Gaius properly about it.

Except, then Alice arrived.

Merlin didn’t think anything of it at first, just thought that Gaius recognised the work of a fellow physician, that maybe they had been friends once upon a time. But then Gaius sneaks out of his chambers in the dead of night, then he’s hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek, and then in the morning he’s telling Merlin that they were engaged to be married. And it shouldn’t bother Merlin, really it _shouldn’t_. He should be pleased that Gaius had found her again, pleased that Gaius had once had someone so close to him, but instead it feels like his heart drops out of his chest. It feels like a hole opens up inside him, when he realises that something he only assumed, was actually a lie. That Gaius wasn’t like him at all, and that ultimately, he was alone again with this absence of feelings.

Thinking about it, he realises he is happy for Gaius. He pushes away his own feelings of almost betrayal, that he knows he has no right to feel, because he never actually asked Gaius for the truth, and focusses on the fact that Gaius is so happy to see her again, clearly still loves her, and thinks they’ve been given a second chance.

He ignores the way Gaius pushes him aside, knows that he is just excited to be with Alice again. He ignores the way Gaius obviously values his love for Alice more than his love for Merlin, as shown by him giving her Merlin’s room, and furiously ignores the voice in his head that repeats over and over and over again that _romantic love will always be more important than platonic love_.

It all comes to a head when it turns out Alice is dabbling in dark magic, with the help of the Manticore. Gaius has _always_ believed Merlin when he’s had strange feelings or hunches, or has seen suspicious things, or at least he always has when Merlin manages to bring him proof. Now, he lashes out against Merlin, and Merlin should know by now not to take it personally, should know that love makes people irrational and unpredictable and blinded from the truth, but it still _hurts_. It hurts because Merlin loves Gaius, and he can’t bear to see their relationship torn apart.

So, Merlin does the only thing he can do, because he knows that ultimately the good of Camelot is more important than his relationship with Gaius. Or at least that’s what his destiny says, even if his heart says otherwise. He argues with Gaius and forces him to realise that Alice poisoned the King and then when Gaius doesn’t seem to accept the truth, he tells Arthur his own theories and watches Alice be escorted to the cells.

Afterwards, once the Manticore is dead and the box destroyed and Alice has miraculously escaped, he doesn’t want to go back to Gaius’ chambers. He sits on the Citadel steps in the early morning light, and then busies himself with his work for the day. Even though Gaius said he forgave Merlin, realised he was working to keep Gaius himself from harm, Merlin still thinks he’s upset with him. He doesn’t think Gaius will want to see him, will forever feel obligated to stay and look after Merlin instead of being with Alice, and he isn’t brave enough to return, to see the anger and disappointment on Gaius’ face. It feels like a void in his heart, similar to when he lost his father before even knowing him,

But in the end, he has to go back, because Gaius’ chambers are his _home_ , and Gaius is the father he never properly had. He completes his chores for the day, and then with a leaden stomach he drags his feet back to the physician’s chambers. He pushes the door open slowly and peeks inside, finds Gaius working at his benches, and can barely make himself take the steps needed to enter.

Gaius looks up at him when he walks through the doorway, and his eyes are tired and sad, but he gives Merlin a surprised smile rather than the look of anger Merlin was expecting. He comes out from around his table, and opens his arms in an invitation for a hug, and Merlin feels relief crash over him as he realises that Gaius doesn’t hold anything that has happened against him, that he still cares for Merlin after everything. Merlin curls into his arms, wraps his own tight around Gaius’ shoulders and just holds him for a moment, feeling his solidity and strength, and is so grateful.

Later, they sit at the table eating dinner like they normally do, and Merlin feels nerves settle in his stomach. He has things he needs to say, and somehow this feels like the right time to say them.

‘Gaius?’ he asks casually, and feels Gaius’ gaze flick to him even though he can’t bear to meet his eyes, ‘Can I tell you something?’

‘Of course you can, my boy.’ Gaius says. And he says ‘my boy’ so easily, and it sits so comfortably in Merlin’s chest that it makes the dam within him break.

His breath catches in his throat, and he realises very suddenly that when he says these words, that will be it. He won’t be able to take them back or ignore them or pretend they were never spoken. This will make everything true. This will make everything real.

‘I –‘ he starts, and then stutters to a stop. He can feel Gaius’ curiosity, sense it morphing into concern at his ward’s sudden loss for words.

_I love him_ , Merlin tells himself, _and he loves me_. He won’t judge me for this. I trust him with my life, and I can trust him with this.

He looks up at Gaius, meets his worried eyes and tries to ignore the tears prickling in his. He bites his lip and then takes a shallow breath.

‘I don’t feel romantic or sexual attraction,’ he states firmly, ‘I just don’t feel that way about people. I have never loved someone romantically, and I have never desired sex.’ He takes a breath, and ignores how it shakes in his lungs. ‘But I do love people platonically. I love you as a father, and I love my friends and everyone I care about. And that’s okay.’ He says it like he’s trying to convince himself, but even as he says the words, he realises how _right_ they feel.

Gaius studies Merlin for a few minutes, his expression carefully neutral and considering. But then he smiles, and reaches out and clasps Merlin’s hand on the table, giving it a comforting squeeze.

‘Okay.’ He says simply, like Merlin hasn’t just laid his heart bare to him, ‘Thank you for telling me, Merlin.’ And Merlin can only nod soundlessly as the tears start trickling down his cheeks, feeling like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

‘Oh Merlin,’ Gaius sighs, and then he’s standing up, and moving around the table to sit on Merlin’s bench, and he pulls Merlin into a hug, slotting Merlin’s face against his shoulder.

‘It’s alright.’ He says, rocking his surrogate son slightly as he sniffles, ‘You know I love you, and I always will, and nothing you could ever say would change that, don’t you? You’ve always been the son I never had.’

And Merlin chokes on a sob and nods into his neck and just holds on tighter to the physician. It feels like a release of tension, like he was a bowstring pulled too tightly that had now snapped. He hadn’t realised how much he was worrying about telling people how he felt, how scared he was of people not understanding or rejecting him. But here, wrapped in Gaius’ arms and being told that everything is okay, he finally thinks he can start to believe that maybe he’s not as abnormal as he sometimes thinks he is.

*

_Okay_ , Merlin thinks, _okay_. So, he doesn’t feel romantic love, that’s fine. _It’s fine._ And Gaius has accepted him, and it’s all _fine._ He can ignore the parts of himself that worry about missing out on something significant. He can ignore the way people seem to think romance is the be all and end all. He can accept himself, and be happy in himself, and that’s the most important thing.

But he can also make sure that his two idiotic best friends who are besotted with each other actually get together. For goodness sake, Arthur and Gwen are the two most important people in his life and he will be damned if they keep skirting around each other and ignoring their feelings. He will be like a cupid who doesn’t actually know what romantic love is but is willing to give it to everyone he knows. He’ll be a clueless matchmaker. Arthur would probably agree with the ‘clueless’ bit anyway.

So, he convinces them to see each other, and he helps Arthur get a picnic ready for Gwen, and he tells Gwen she looks lovely and he teases them mercilessly and it should all work out okay. Because he likes her and she likes him, and that’s how things like this work.

Except it doesn’t, because this is Camelot, and Uther is a stuck-up moron who cares more about tradition than the happiness of his son, and Merlin has had it up to here with all of these idiots. Because Gwen is now being accused of sorcery, and he has to become an old man to pretend he enchanted them, and it would be so much _simpler_ if people could just love the people they did and have done with it. What makes it worse is that Arthur is so hurt he starts lashing out at him, like _he_ did something wrong when he was just trying to help, and he nearly gets burnt for his efforts.

Honestly, he owes Gaius his life more times than he can count.

Which is how he ends up in his room, sat on his bed, just thinking, which Gaius would say was very bad for him. It’s just that love makes people so _stupid_ which is hilarious, but it also causes people so much _pain_ , which decidedly isn’t, and he just can’t quite keep everything straight in his head. It feels too abstract, too foreign. Yes, he knows that if the people he loves are hurt or shunned or whatever, he would feel pain and sadness and anger, but it just seems like this romantic love is so much more all-consuming than that, and he isn’t sure if that’s just what it looks like from an outsider’s perspective or whether that means romance is more important than family and friends. It seems like an impossible problem to solve, and certainly not one he can figure out on his own.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door, and he gives a small mumble of affirmation and looks towards it as it opens. He expects to see Gaius, maybe ordering him down to dinner or to do some other chore, but instead, peaking her head in, is Gwen. She smiles shyly at him, and he sits up a bit straighter.

‘Hello, Merlin,’ she says.

‘Hi Gwen,’ he replies, ‘What are you doing here?’

She enters the room fully, and then sits next to him on the bed when he gestures for her to do so.

‘I wanted to say thank you,’ she says honestly, and Merlin gives her a confused look. ‘For the picnic and everything.’ She clarifies.

Merlin snorts slightly, ‘It didn’t exactly go as planned.’ He mutters.

‘No,’ she confirms, fiddling with the skirt of her dress, ‘But it was lovely while it lasted.’

‘Well,’ Merlin responds, ‘You’re very welcome.’

Gwen smiles at him again, and then puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes it slightly. ‘You’re so good to me, Merlin,’ she reveals, ‘And understanding of my feelings for Arthur.’ Merlin resists the urge to laugh.

Gwen’s smile turns mischievous, ‘And when you find someone to love, I’ll be happy to help you in turn.’

Merlin actually does laugh then, self-deprecating and devoid of any real humour. Gwen shoots him a confused look.

‘That’s very kind of you, Gwen,’ he tells her, ‘But I’m never going to fall in love.’

It slips out of his mouth before he can stop it, before he can think about how Gwen may take or react to the words. Gwen’s eyes go very large and very sad, and she clutches him a bit tighter in comfort. ‘Oh, don’t be like that, Merlin!’ she exclaims, ‘One day you’ll find someone and then you can be happy together.’

Merlin feels a stone settle somewhere in his stomach. It bleeds ice into his veins, and his throat suddenly feels very tight. He notes the pity in her eyes at his words, sees the belief she places in romantic love leading to eternal happiness. He needs to explain, he realises, make her understand. There’s nothing wrong with him.

‘No,’ he counters, and he wishes his voice sounded stronger than it does. It sounds shaky and unsure. ‘No,’ he repeats again definitively, ‘I won’t find someone, because I don’t feel romantic love. I never have, and I never will.’ He looks at Gwen, wills her to understand.

‘And that’s okay.’ He points out, when he can only see confusion blooming across her face. ‘I don’t need to love someone romantically to be happy. I love my family, and I love you and all of my other friends, just in a platonic way. And that isn’t a lesser feeling than romantic attraction, they’re both as important as the other.’ His voice gets more confident as he says the words, and he can’t help thinking that maybe he’s starting to truly believe them too.

‘Oh.’ Gwen says, brown-eyed gaze raking over his face, noting the seriousness and the determination and the vulnerability. She looks slightly confused and shocked, and for a minute looks like she doesn’t know what to say, and Merlin instinctively braces for her to call him a liar or to say that’s not a real thing, that he’s wrong and one day he’ll wake up and love someone _properly_. But she doesn’t. Instead, she squeezes his arm again and gives him a smile full of happiness and warmth, and Merlin thanks whatever deity is listening that he has the best friends in the world.

‘Thank you for telling me, Merlin,’ she says earnestly. ‘I’m really proud of you for working that out, and being happy to tell me. It must have been really difficult.’ Merlin feels his throat close up and he can only nod silently.

‘And I’m sorry for saying you needed someone to be happy. It was a stupid thing to say, and I shouldn’t have assumed that you would get with someone like that. I’m so glad you have all of your friends and we have you, and you know that I love you too.’ And then she’s pulling him into a hug, and he buries his head into her shoulder and she just holds him for a while. And Merlin thinks, _yeah, I’m going to be okay._

*

Merlin never really planned to tell the Knights about it. Months go past after he tells Gwen, and then Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan all get knighted, and they beat Morgana, and Uther grieves, and Arthur shows that he will be an incredible king time and time again, and Merlin thinks _should I tell them?_ Over and over again. Because they’re his friends, and this is a part of Merlin, and he wonders whether they should know. It’s just that he isn’t sure they would understand, is worried how they would react to the news, and then decides that, along with his magic, what is one more secret?

His opinion on telling them wavers after Lancelot dies, because he regrets never telling the man. Lancelot knew everything about him, including his magic, and yet he didn’t know this facet of his heart, and Merlin hates that he never got the opportunity to tell him when he was alive. He also knows, however, that Lancelot was his closest friend amongst the knights, and wouldn’t judge him for anything, and therefore would likely have had an accepting reaction. He really isn’t so sure about the others. He doesn’t think they would be deliberately mean or cruel, he just doesn’t think they would understand properly or take him seriously.

He should have known that fate would take things into its own hands and it would come out anyway.

They’re camping out in the forest on patrol, a campfire roaring between them, and Gwaine starts up a conversation about their ‘accomplishments’ in terms of women (and men when it comes to Gwaine). The others laugh brightly and happily share their own stories, and Merlin’s heart twists in his chest as he focuses on prodding the fire, and wonders how easily he could escape and pretend to be feeding the horses even though he did that earlier. He doesn’t want to hear their stories, and more importantly, he doesn’t want the conversation to move to him.

He should have known he didn’t have that much luck.

‘What about you Merlin?!’ Gwaine calls from across the open flames, and Merlin’s head jerks up to look at him, finding the eyes of Percival, Leon, Elyan, and Arthur all looking at him too and smiling amusedly.

‘What?’ he questions, stupidly, even though he’s sure he knows what they’re talking about.

Gwaine laughs, ‘When did you lose your virginity?’ he asks, eyebrows wriggling suggestively, ‘Have a good frolic in the hay when you were younger?’

Merlin feels his face instantly heat up, and hopes the moonlight conceals his red cheeks. He struggles to speak for a moment, and the others laugh at his reaction, taking it for being shy and prudish.

And then, suddenly, it just slips out.

‘I don’t feel attraction like that.’ His breath catches in his throat at the words, as the laughter dies around him to be replaced with confused looks.

‘What?’ Gwaine asks, incredulously.

‘I don’t feel things like that.’ Merlin tries to explain, and attempts to ignore his hands shaking. ‘I’ve never loved anyone romantically and I’ve never desired sex.’

‘You’re a virgin?’ Gwaine says amazed, but his face also looks calculating, like he’s trying to make sense of the sentence. ‘That explains so much,’ he marvels, and then he just starts laughing uproariously. Merlin feels something shrivel up and die inside him. He tries to ignore his burning, flushed cheeks, clenching his fingers tight into fists as the other knights start laughing too.

He wants to speak up again, defend himself or shout at them for their reactions, but he instinctively knows his words would be falling on deaf ears. The only one not laughing is Arthur, and when Merlin glances up towards him, he’s just giving Merlin a considering look that he can’t read, before he gets up and heads towards his bedroll. Merlin ardently wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear forever.

Their King retiring for the night obviously spurs the Knights into action, because Percival shoots him a sympathetic smile before moving to the camp edge to keep watch. Elyan moves past him, and claps him on the shoulder while saying he’d get some ‘action’ one day, and Leon gives him a small smile and points out that he’s still young and would find someone at some point. Gwaine wipes his eyes and is still chuckling as he lays down on his own bedroll.

Merlin sits there for a few minutes in the growing silence. He feels empty, adrift, and incredibly hurt. They didn’t even listen to the words he said. He hadn’t said he had never felt like that, he had said he _didn’t_ feel things like that. That he never would. And they had treated him like that was something funny, and it would be fixed in the future. He fights against tears, and then drags his bedroll to the furthest spot away from the fire before laying down. His heart aches and he feels more alone than ever in the middle of the woods, even with the magic pulsing below the leaf-litter ground.

He buries himself under his blankets, refuses to let any sound or sob escape him, and can barely hold back the negativity that fills him. He thinks of the future, thinks of the Knights all getting married and having children. He thinks of Arthur and Gwen, legally together, with small princes and princesses running around their feet. He sees himself in the middle of it all, completely and utterly alone. He wouldn’t be needed in that world, would just be a servant who was left behind as everyone moved onto the proper and more important things in life like marriage and raising children, and it _aches_ somewhere deep inside his chest.

Because it isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair that romance is viewed as more important than friendship. It isn’t fair that the expectation is for marriage and children and happy families. It isn’t fair that even if Merlin wants those things, his heart won’t let him have them in a normal way, and his future will likely be littered in people judging him for that. Judging his experiences and his feelings and his relationships. And it hurts.

Because he knows he loves his friends as much as he is physically able to. Because he wants them to be happy and to protect them and to have them love him too. But that isn’t the way things are, even though he will never feel romantic love, and platonic love is the only thing he can offer, and that should be enough.

It just isn’t fair.

*

Merlin barely sleeps that night, and rouses to rekindle the fire again with red and bleary eyes. As the Knights rise around him, they thankfully don’t mention last night’s conversation or point out his quietness, but he does catch Gwaine sending him a couple of worried looks as they mount their horses.

Back in Camelot, Merlin throws himself into his chores, trying to ignore the emptiness that seems to have opened up inside him due to the Knight’s laughter. He tries to act as normally as he can, offering Gwen a strained smile when they pass in the corridors, and sitting with Gaius for dinner even though he doesn’t feel like saying or eating anything.

He retires to bed early, and just curls up on top of his blankets, letting himself wallow and feel self-pitying for a while.

He’s interrupted by a soft tapping at the door, and he lifts his head to glare at it as though it’s personally offended him.

‘Who is it?’ he asks suspiciously. He doesn’t particularly feel like seeing _anyone_ , but the universe seems determined to hate him.

‘It’s Gwaine,’ a voice says from the other side of the wood, and Merlin blinks in surprise before noting the curl of frustration that runs through his chest. ‘Can I come in?’

Merlin is very tempted to tell him, _No, Go Away_ , and feels the words form on the tip of his tongue before he pulls them back in. Gwaine sounds more timid than he’s ever heard him, and Merlin supposes he can at least hear him out. If he laughs more though, or says anything else mean and rude, Merlin is more than willing to kick him out of his room.

He sits up, runs a hand through his hair to flatten it so it doesn’t look like he’s had his head buried in a pillow for who knows how long.

‘Sure.’ He calls, and watches as Gwaine carefully pushes the door open, and sticks his head around it, eyes landing on Merlin. He shuffles into Merlin’s bedroom, and Merlin is struck by how unusual it is to see Gwaine do anything nervously. He looks embarrassed but determined, and Merlin raises his eyebrows at him when he doesn’t speak for a few moments.

‘Uh,’ Gwaine says, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ Merlin repeats, unimpressed.

‘I, um,’ he stutters, ‘I wanted to apologise.’

Merlin’s eyebrows rise even higher.

Gwaine shuffles his feet, ‘I realise now that you put your trust in us yesterday evening and gave us some very personal information, and we, well, me especially, laughed at you, and that was a horrible thing to do.’

He pauses as though he expects Merlin to speak, but Merlin stays resolutely silent.

‘So,’ he finishes lamely, ‘I’m really sorry.’

Merlin studies him for a few moments, notes the concern in his eyes and his wringing hands and the honesty on his face. The ache inside him lessens slightly.

‘It’s okay,’ he mumbles, ‘You didn’t know.’

‘But I should have done.’ Gwaine says immediately, and carefully perches himself on the corner of Merlin’s bed. ‘I should have realised it was something you feel vulnerable about and I shouldn’t have made a joke about it.’

Merlin nods slowly, ‘Yeah, maybe leave the jokes until you know the other person won’t get hurt by them?’

Gwaine ducks his head looking upset, ‘Yeah,’ he agrees.

He glances up at Merlin again, and this time a small smile crosses his face. ‘So,’ he says carefully, ‘I guess that explains the awkward misreading of signals a few years ago, huh?’

And Merlin can’t help but smile at that, remembering his panic and Gwaine’s confusion, and how now that he understands himself better it all makes so much more sense.

‘Ha, yeah.’ He replies, ‘Sorry about that.’

Gwaine shakes his head, ‘No, I’m sorry for putting you through that. It must have been really confusing and stuff.’

‘It’s okay.’ Merlin stretches his legs out slightly and then laughs quietly, ‘It actually helped me work a few things out.’ He reveals.

‘Yeah?’ Gwaine asks, smile widening as he realises Merlin’s okay with this conversation.

‘Yeah.’ Merlin answers. He looks at Gwaine, meets his eyes, ‘I do love you, Gwaine.’ He says seriously, ‘Just not in the way you assumed I did.’

And Gwaine laughs, and pulls him into a tight hug and says, ‘As long as you’re here, Merlin, that’s good enough for me.’

*

They come across a creature called a Lamia in the woods, looking like a beautiful woman with big doleful eyes. She takes over the Knights with some kind of seduction magic that Merlin doesn’t understand, and can only helplessly watch as the Knights become more argumentative, protective and competitive every hour they’re in her company. They don’t listen to Merlin and Gwen trying to encourage them back to Camelot, and they certainly don’t let them come anywhere near Lamia. They strike out against each other, and towards Merlin and Gwen, and they don’t have a hope of getting them to listen to reason. The enchantment is too strong.

Except, it doesn’t affect Merlin. He looks at her and at first only sees a helpless woman, but quickly determines that she’s some sort of manipulative sorceress or creature. Seeming to sense that he is unaffected by her charms, she flinches away from him, which only serves to makes the Knights more hostile towards him.

Merlin isn’t sure what is protecting him – whether it’s because of his magic, or his lack of romantic or sexual attraction. Gwen seems to be on a similar page to him, because she keeps giving him knowing and concerned looks, like she’s put the pieces together and come up with the latter option: No attraction means nothing for Lamia to play with which means no desire to protect her or do everything she says. If that is the reason, then this is the first time Merlin has ever felt truly thankful to not experience that kind of attraction. In being able to keep a clear head, he is able to protect Gwen and the Knights as much as he can, and he is incredibly grateful.

*

After, the Knights take a few days to remember what happened. It seems to come back to them gradually as the enchantment fades, and Merlin just bears with them, accepting pats on the back that he tries not to flinch away from and trying to act as normally as possible.

_It wasn’t their fault_ , he keeps telling himself. But, even knowing that was true, their words and actions still hurt and he has to force smiles onto his face when he looks at them.

After a few days, Gwaine comes to apologise to him, because he’s always been more noble than he wants to believe, and Merlin forgives him easily. He doesn’t really expect the others to do anything, thinking it likely that they’d want to forget all about it and never mention it again.

Instead, over the next week they all come to him at one point or another, and say they’re sorry. Percival, Elyan, and even Leon shuffle their feet in front of him like scolded school children and tell him that they respect him and they appreciate his skills and his advice. It’s a little overwhelming, to be honest, so Merlin happily forgives them and lets them return to their duties.

What he doesn’t notice, however, are the quietly curious looks they give him before they leave, the murmured whispers between them in the corridors, the looks of guilt they hide from him when they realise maybe they hurt him even before the whole Lamia debacle. And that leads to them realising apologies are in order.

*

Merlin is in the armoury, carefully polishing Arthur’s armour as the day draws to a close, when the door swings open. Leon enters, but when he spots Merlin working in the corner, he halts for a second before resuming his steps.

‘Hello, Merlin,’ he calls,

Merlin glances up at him and offers a cordial ‘Leon,’ in greeting, before returning his attention to his task.

Leon approaches him, weaving through the racks of armour and weapons to reach him. He stops close by, and then stands looking at him in silence. Merlin glances up from his work again and raises his eyebrows.

‘Can I help you with something?’ he asks carefully.

‘I wanted to speak to you actually,’ Leon admits, looking awkward and nervous.

Merlin sets aside the rag he’s using to polish Arthur’s breastplate and looks up at him, providing his full attention.

‘Okay?’ he questions.

Leon shuffles his feet, and Merlin instinctively feels the tension in his body rise. It’s never good when a Knight doesn’t know how to talk to a servant about something.

‘The Lamia,’ Leon starts, and Merlin feels a stone settle somewhere in his stomach while he tries to keep his face neutral. ‘It didn’t affect you,’ Leon points out.

Merlin looks down at his hands, ‘No,’ he agrees, ‘It didn’t.’ He doesn’t want to meet Leon’s eyes, see his questioning look, have to give him an answer that Leon obviously won’t understand again.

There’s silence for a few moments, and then Leon breaks it again.

‘This relates to what you told us around the campfire that night, doesn’t it?’ He doesn’t need to specify which night. They both know what he’s talking about. ‘When you said you didn’t feel romantic stuff?’

Merlin’s throat feels tight, so he just nods silently. He wishes he could tell where this conversation was going.

There’s silence again. Merlin can only hear his heart pounding blood through his body, it echoes in his ears and he’s surprised Leon can’t hear it.

‘Well then,’ Leon says, ‘I’m really sorry.’

Merlin’s head snaps up to meet his gaze. The Knight is looking concerned and contrite, and also a little out of his depth, like he’s not used to apologising to servants.

Leon meets his eyes bravely, ‘I didn’t believe you when you said that was how you felt, when I should have done. After all, you know how you feel better than anyone. I’m sorry for laughing at the idea and for saying you would be able to find someone one day.’ He stutters, ‘Obviously, if you’d like to find someone one day then that’s completely fine too, I’m just sorry for assuming that that is what you would want.’

Merlin can hear the honesty in his voice, the regret that he speaks with, and even though he knows Leon has been trained his whole life to be chivalrous, something warm blooms inside him. He means this, Merlin thinks, he knows that he hurt me and now he’s trying to make it better.

Merlin’s face splits into a warm smile and he sees relief flicker over Leon’s expression.

‘It’s okay, Leon,’ he tells him, and Leon mirrors his smile, ‘Thank you for apologising, but it’s okay.’

Leon slumps in on himself in relief, and Merlin is touched by how much this obviously meant to him.

‘You’re a good man, Merlin.’ Leon says definitively, ‘Loyal and brave, and we’re lucky to have you.’

Merlin’s smile grows impossibly wider as he picks up one of Arthur’s gauntlets and his polishing rag.

‘That’s a very kind thing to say, Sir Leon.’ He replies, feeling lighter than air, ‘Thank you very much.’

*

Percival speaks to him after he’s been injured during a patrol. Merlin is wrapping his ankle while Percival is lying on the patient bed in Gaius’ chambers, and he can feel his gaze boring into him as he works. Whenever he looks up, however, Percival’s gaze skitters away.

Merlin finishes typing the bandage, and then leans away from the bed.

‘There you go,’ he says, ‘Gaius says you’re to stay here for the rest of the day, and then tomorrow you need to keep as much weight off it as possible. It should be better in a few days.’

He gets up and busies himself with tidying up the room, as Percival says ‘thank you,’ and leans back into the bed.

When he’s put a few bottled concoctions back into the cupboards, he turns to see Percival’s eyes watching him. They don’t leave him this time however, and Merlin shoots him a confused smile when the attention doesn’t waver.

‘Do you want something for the pain?’ he asks, kindly, but Percival just mutely shakes his head. He looks like he wants to say something, but Percival has never been a man of many words, so Merlin just continues with his tasks until he feels ready to speak.

‘I’m sorry.’ It cuts through the room suddenly, and Merlin looks up towards the Knight, eyes curious and smile kind.

‘What for?’ he asks, bemusedly.

Percival doesn’t seem to share his amusement. His brows are drawn into tense lines, and he’s studying Merlin intently, like he’s trying to read and understand something within him. Merlin fidgets slightly under the scrutiny.

‘When you said that you didn’t feel romantic or sexual feelings,’ he says it slowly, like he’s feeling out the words, ‘I laughed.’

Merlin feels the confusion leech out of him as he hears the words. He stands up slightly straighter, almost going on guard against the next words that Percival might say.

‘Yes, you did.’ He agrees, simply.

Percival looks remorseful. ‘I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have done.’ He swallows, ‘I had just never heard anything like that before, and so I wasn’t sure you were telling the truth, but then the Lamia –‘ he breaks off. ‘Well, it made me realise that you were being serious, and I should have realised that.’

Merlin nods slowly, and fiddles with a few bottles on the table in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to do with all these Knights suddenly apologising to him.

‘It’s alright,’ he tells Percival, once he’s been quiet for probably too long, ‘I don’t blame you.’

Percival still stares at him, ‘Are you sure?’

Merlin grins slightly, ‘Yeah. Before I started figuring out about myself, I wasn’t sure it was real either, so I don’t blame you for doubting it.’

Percival mirrors his small smile, and relaxes back into the bed.

‘Well,’ he says, with determination, ‘I’m really glad you’ve managed to figure that out and you feel comfortable in yourself.’

Merlin smiles wider, ‘Me too,’ he replies.

The silence after is much more comfortable. Percival’s eyes track the old stone ceiling, while Merlin packs up a few potions for Gaius’ next set of rounds.

When he feels Percival’s eyes on him again, he glances up to see amusement dancing in them.

‘What?’ he asks, curiously, a smile instantly curling his lips.

‘Well…’ Percival starts slowly, almost slyly, ‘This may not be your area of expertise,’ he says, wiggling his eyebrows slightly, ‘But you know people pretty well, so…’ he trails off and bites his lips.

‘How do you think I could seduce Gwaine?’

And Merlin can’t help but burst into surprised giggles, sit down next to Percival and discuss increasing extravagant seducing techniques until they hear Arthur yelling for him because he’s missed dinner.

*

Elyan comes to him after training one day. He sticks his head into Arthur’s chambers, and finds Merlin straightening out the King’s bedsheets and picking things up off the floor.

When Merlin glances up and notices him, he says, ‘Arthur isn’t back yet, he’s probably down in the armoury.’

Elyan shakes his head slightly and then enters the room. Merlin straightens up to watch him questioningly.

‘It wasn’t Arthur I was looking for,’ Elyan admits, quietly, ‘It was you.’

‘Oh,’ Merlin nods slightly, ‘Is there something I can help you with?’

Elyan looks away from him for a moment, gaze sweeping over the room and glancing out the window, finally landing on his feet and refusing to rise.

‘Gwen and I had a talk.’ He murmurs, sounding so much like a scolded child that Merlin can only blink at him, ‘And I think I owe you an apology.’

‘Right?’ Merlin prompts, confused.

Elyan looks back at him finally, and his eyes are wide and concerned. ‘We spoke about the Lamia,’ he reveals, ‘And how you weren’t affected?’ It’s more like a question than a statement, so Merlin just nods slowly, feeling his heart rate pick up.

‘And Gwen said that it was obviously because you don’t feel romantic attraction, and I questioned her about it, and she said you’d told her a while ago now, and I told her you’d mentioned it to the Knights too.’ He sighs heavily, ‘Anyway I told her how we reacted, and she got really mad about it and gave me a right talking to.’ He chuckles self-deprecatingly, and rubs an awkward hand over his head.

‘So, I owe you an apology.’ He finishes, ‘I should never have laughed at you telling us something like that, and I should not have teased you about having sex in the future.’ He straightens up, looks Merlin dead in the eyes, and says, ‘I’m sorry.’

Merlin studies him for a moment, takes in his flushed cheeks, his determined gaze.

‘Thanks, Elyan.’ He says, giving the Knight a smile, and then he goes back to making Arthur’s bed, feeling warmth and relief pound through him.

Elyan shuffles where he’s standing. ‘That’s it?’ he asks, confused, and Merlin looks up at him again.

‘Yeah.’ He says easily, ‘It’s alright, Elyan. I wish you hadn’t reacted like you did, but it’s in the past, and you’ve realised it was wrong and apologised for it, so thank you.’

‘Oh.’ Elyan replies, looking vaguely shell-shocked that his apology was so easily accepted.

Merlin suddenly can’t keep the amused grin off his face, and Elyan eyes him apprehensively.

‘Also,’ Merlin says casually, while fluffing a pillow, ‘Now Gwen knows, I doubt you guys are going to hear the end of it for a while.’ And he chuckles while the blood drains out of Elyan’s face and he stares at him with a look of abject horror.

‘You are a cruel man, Merlin,’ he points out, lips quirking up into a tiny smile.

‘No,’ he disagrees, ‘I just have great friends.’

*

Merlin is pissed. Despite the other Knights all apologising to him, and all looking very guilty when Gwen got through them, it turns out that a different Knight is the thing that ruins his year. Because Lancelot returns from the dead.

Normally, Merlin would find this a cause for celebration, but as it is, he’s not sure a _shade_ created by evil necromancy means anything good is going to happen. So, despite the initial jubilation of thinking Lancelot had somehow escaped the spirit world, he’s left with a heavy feeling of dread.

He should have known (honestly, he should have learnt by now), that Lancelot’s presence was related to romance. Of course, it bloody well was. _Of course_.

Since Arthur had become king, and since Uther had died, Merlin had taken a backseat on the whole Arthur-and-Gwen matchmaking plan, because Arthur seemed pretty determined to marry Gwen whether his old councillors agreed with it or not. Which was good, because they were supposed to be together, and they had taken their sweet time over it already.

But then Lancelot rocks up from the dead, and everything falls apart. Merlin has had it up to here with these idiotic romance-driven morons, and he’s seriously considering just lying down and letting them figure it all out for themselves. He is so done.

Sadly, as Arthur’s manservant he doesn’t have the luxury of burying himself under a pile of blankets until people who love each other actually act sensibly. Instead, he has to get knocked out, watch Gwen snog Lancelot in the council chambers (which he’s pretty sure is caused by an enchantment), and then see Arthur _banish_ Gwen.

It’s the worst thing he’s ever seen, and he’s never been more frustrated in his life. Because Gwen is so upset, and Arthur is completely broken-hearted, and there’s nothing he can say that can make it better. Because love is _complicated_ and it makes people do _stupid things_ and he hates it, he hates it, _he hates it_.

They were _engaged_ , for goodness sake, and then magic and Lancelot and old feelings and Agravaine’s whispered poison gets in the way, and Merlin doesn’t know how to fix it. How can he fix it when he doesn’t know how it feels? How can he fix it when Arthur is inviting Princesses like Mithian to the castle with the intent to marry them? How can he fix it and convince Arthur that Gwen was enchanted when he has no _proof_?

So, he has to watch Arthur be more desolate and broken than he has ever seen him before. He has to be rude to Mithian and tell her that Arthur is meant for someone else. He has to keep _believing_ it when the two people who mean the world to him don’t believe it anymore. And he has to keep trying to persuade Arthur that Gwen still loves him, that she is the one he needs to find and forgive.

In the end, they find each other again through luck and random chance, although Merlin is tempted to call it fate. In Ealdor, where he grew up and never thought about romance, the two people he knows are made for each other see one another again, and Merlin is so unbearably relieved that he can scarcely contain it.

He knows they have things to work through. He knows it will be a difficult and complicated and long road to forgiveness, but as he watches Gwen kneel before Arthur and be crowned Queen of Camelot, he can’t help but know it will be worth it.

They will be just, and brave, and kind, and as they stand together on the raised dais, Merlin thinks they look beautiful.

*

Once all the romantic drama has settled down and Gwen is back, safely crowned and married in Camelot, Merlin suddenly realises that Arthur is the only one who hasn’t said anything to him about what he said around the campfire all those months ago. When he laid himself bare and said he didn’t feel romantic attraction. Arthur didn’t mention it that night, barely even reacted to it, in fact, and he certainly hasn’t mentioned it since.

The thought burrows under his skin more determinedly than he expects, and it’s very annoying, like an itch he can’t scratch. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, this lack of reaction. It’s arguably better then Arthur not believing him, or being mean about it, or not accepting him because of it, but it still feels like there should be something _more_.

Merlin isn’t sure what to take from Arthur’s silence on the subject. Has he just forgotten about it? Is he ignoring it? Does he find it amusing and is just waiting for the best time to tease him about it? Does he even believe it? It could be anything, Merlin concludes, and hell if he can figure out what Arthur’s thinking sometimes.

Arthur doesn’t mention it for years. Until, he suddenly does.

Because this is Camelot, and Camelot barely knows how to have an uneventful week, Gwen is enchanted again. This time, Merlin’s pretty sure it’s an enchantment just to try and get her to kill the King. No bows or ribbons, just pure direct action.

Unfortunately, this means that Merlin – whose sole purpose most days seems to be to save the King – gets undoubtably caught in the crossfire, and gets a target put on his back too. Which then leads to Daegel drawing him out of Camelot, being poisoned by Morgana, being saved by Daegel, and then the pair of them managing to stop _another_ assassin shooting Arthur. Merlin definitely deserves a raise.

This all then leads to Merlin serving Gwen and Arthur in the evening, with a limp (because even as an all-powerful sorcerer, being thrown down a cliff and poisoned still hurts. A lot). And then it turns out that Gwen took it upon herself to make up an excuse for his absence, which was (and listen closely to this, because in hindsight it’s quite ironic): Merlin was seeing a girl.

Arthur responds to this with his usual favourite pastime of teasing Merlin.

‘Why don’t you tell us all about her?’ he jokes and grins in his annoying way. And Merlin has to make up some convoluted story to satisfy his curiosity through dinner.

In the end, he leaves their chambers feeling jittery about how to prove Gwen’s enchantment, and depressed because he’s lost someone else today and he’s in pain and exhausted and he just wants to sleep.

‘Merlin!’ Arthur’s voice rings out behind him, and he obediently stops walking and turns to face the King, trying to hide a sigh of annoyance. Arthur walks up to him, and then looks him up and down, and Merlin tries not to squirm under the attention.

‘Yes, Sire?’ he asks, hoping it’ll only be a small chore that he can finish very quickly so then he can just go to bed.

Arthur studies him for another moment, eyes clearly taking in the dark shadows below Merlin’s eyes and flicking down to where his trousers are hiding the bandages wrapped around his leg.

‘What happened?’ Arthur asks quietly, sending a quick glance to the closed door of his chambers before fixing Merlin with an intense look again.

Merlin blinks in surprise. ‘What?’ he says, stupidly.

Arthur sighs in the way he does when Merlin is being particularly obtuse.

‘What happened to you?’ Arthur asks again.

‘I was with a girl?’ Merlin replies, although it sounds more like a question than an answer. ‘Arthur, we were literally just talking about it ten minutes ago.’

‘Yes,’ Arthur agrees, ‘But we both know that that was a complete lie, so I’ll ask you again, what happened?’

Merlin feels something heavy settle in his chest, feels his heart start to pound faster. ‘What?’ he chokes out. ‘Why would it be a lie?’

Arthur closes his eyes like he’s praying for strength to put up with Merlin.

‘Merlin,’ he says slowly, carefully, and reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, ‘You told us once that you don’t feel romantic attraction, and now you’re suddenly out with a girl for over a day? Forgive me if I don’t believe that for a second.’

‘Oh.’ Merlin says faintly. Because he’s right. Because he _remembers_ , and more than that because he seems to just _accept it_.

‘You remembered?’ he asks weakly, because he needs to make sure this is real and he isn’t just dreaming or still dying in the forest.

Arthur rolls his eyes at him. ‘Of course, I remembered, Merlin. I am able to remember information given to me.’

Merlin doesn’t respond, feeling off-kilter and amazed. Arthur seems to realise his mood. Seems to realise that was a point when Merlin would normally say something disrespectful and funny, but he didn’t. Seems to realise that this is far more important than he maybe thought it was.

His expression softens, and he squeezes Merlin’s shoulder slightly.

‘Of course, I remembered,’ he says kindly, ‘You’re my best friend and you trusted me with a secret about yourself.’ His eyes flick over Merlin’s face, taking in the amazement and the relief and the shock. He shakes his head slightly, and then draws back his hand. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t mentioned it before, and I’m sorry the others reacted badly when you told us, and I didn’t step in. I just needed time to process the information, but after a little while I realised it made sense.’

Merlin feels like the world has shifted perceptively beneath his feet. ‘Made sense?’ he asks softly, aware that he is probably overreacting about this. It’s just that Arthur had never mentioned it before, and he had wanted Arthur’s acceptance more than any of the other Knight’s.

‘Merlin,’ Arthur sighs, and then he smiles in amusement, ‘I have known you for about a decade, and never once have I seen you moon over a girl or a boy, unless you count giving flowers to Morgana.’

‘That was a gift of friendship.’ Merlin responds automatically.

‘I know.’ Arthur agrees, and his smile gets wider, and Merlin shakily starts to mirror it. ‘What I mean is, you’ve never cared about all that romantic stuff, and so knowing you don’t feel those kinds of feelings made sense.’

‘Oh.’ Merlin repeats.

‘Yeah.’ Arthur agrees. He pauses slightly, ‘I should have said it sooner it seems, but thank you for telling me, and I hope you know that something like that would never change my opinion of you.’

Merlin ducks his head, feels happiness well up inside him and can’t quite hide his wide smile and flushed cheeks. ‘Thank you,’ he says breathlessly, and he really can’t find more complex words to thank Arthur enough, so he just tries to put as much feeling into the simple sentence as possible.

‘It’s okay.’ Arthur tells him, looking relieved at Merlin’s joy. His expression turns serious again.

‘But this doesn’t answer my original question. What happened?’

‘Ah.’ Merlin replies, instantly sobering and shuffling his feet. ‘Well, I was kind of poisoned by Morgana.’

Arthur raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him which translates to: You better give me more information than that.

‘The boy that saved you – Daegal – he lured me out of Camelot and to Morgana who poisoned me, but then he had a change of heart and saved me.’ He explains. He doesn’t mean it to sound like this kind of thing is a common occurrence, but Arthur narrows his eyes at him suspiciously anyway.

‘Why did Morgana want you dead?’ he asks seriously, sounding dangerous.

‘Um,’ Merlin falters, ‘Well, I kind of get in the way of other people trying to kill you a lot, so I think she wants me out of the picture.’

Arthur stares at him for a few moments, carefully noting the honesty in his face.

‘So, why did Gwen lie and make up a story about you?’ Arthur questions, sounding confused and worried.

Merlin instantly feels his palms start to sweat, and realises that this is the moment he has been waiting for. He glances back at the chamber door, and then leans in closer to Arthur, dropping his voice into a whisper.

‘Arthur.’ He starts quietly, ‘I think Gwen has been enchanted by Morgana to act as a pawn to her.’ Arthur’s eyes widen in shock and he sees betrayal flicker in them.

‘Completely against her will of course!’ Merlin reassures, ‘I just think she’s dangerous at the moment.’

Arthur doesn’t break his eye contact. ‘What proof have you got to base these accusations?’ he asks dangerously, anger starting to raise its face in his expression.

Merlin sighs. ‘I think it was her that poisoned you, and she accused me instead.’ He says honestly, ‘But I don’t have anything definite.’

Arthur’s eyes close and Merlin can see him trying to hide the hurt inside him.

‘I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Merlin assures him, ‘And if she seems to leave for a liaison with someone or gets messages or anything, I’ll let you know straight away.’

Arthur nods shortly, expression schooled into hard lines of determination.

‘Thank you, Merlin,’ he says simply, ‘That will be all.’

Merlin nods slightly, and then turns away from him, with a newfound resolve to break the enchantment affecting Gwen.

Despite the betrayal of the Queen, he feels slightly lighter as he heads back to the physician’s chambers. Hearing Arthur say that he accepts him and his feelings, it means more to him than he’ll ever be able to explain and he can’t help but feel incredibly thankful to have a friend who would accept him so simply and easily.

*

Merlin is sitting on the steps of the Citadel, trying to absorb some sunlight while he cleans a long line of Arthur’s boots. After days of feeling drained and exhausted from the large amount of magic he had expended to save Gwen, he is finally feeling more alert and capable, and has returned to his chores with a renewed vigour to catch up on what he had slacked off over the last few days.

A bright laugh ringing across the courtyard catches his attention, and he raises his eyes to see six horses entering the cobbled area. In the lead are Arthur and Gwen, smiling happily, and Merlin is sure it was Gwen’s laugh that he heard. Flanking them on either side are the Knights – Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan. They’re all grinning broadly, seemingly having had a good hunting trip in the sunshine.

Merlin’s gaze sweeps over them, and he feels the tension of letting them leave Camelot’s walls without him drain out of his bones. He leans back on the steps slightly, and just takes them in.

This is the kingdom he has helped build. Where commoners can be Knights, and servants can be Queen, and people can be happy. There is still a way to go, and Merlin knows that more than most seeing as Arthur still doesn’t know about his magic yet, but for the moment Merlin is happy with everything they’ve achieved so far.

He feels a deep sense of peace within him, looking at some of the most important people in his life. Coming to Camelot ten years ago has taught him so much, about his magic, about running a kingdom, about people and power and politics. But most importantly, it’s taught him so much about himself.

He loves these people riding towards him, like he loves Gaius in his chambers, and his mother back in Ealdor. It’s something he would have been afraid to say and accept a few years ago, but now he can think it freely. He _loves_ them. As family, as friends, as just people who hold a piece of his heart and soul.

It took him a long time to realise that there was nothing wrong with him when he knew he couldn’t feel romantic attraction, or didn’t desire sex. It took him a long time to admit to himself that he was different, and an even longer time to confide in anyone else about it. But he has now, and they have accepted him and reassured him, and more than that he had learnt that he doesn’t need to experience those things to be complete. He isn’t broken. In any way.

He has everything he needs, right here. He has people he cares about and people who care about him. He isn’t alone, like he thought he was before he met Freya and tried to convince himself he loved her in a different way than he actually did, and he will never be alone so long as he has people around him who love him for who he is.

He smiles as the thoughts fill him, feels his heart swell with happiness and relief. It took him a long time to reach this feeling, and he knows there will still be times when he doubts it or doubts himself, but right now, he has everything he needs.

He stands up from the steps, and jumps down them, heading to where his friends are dismounting, to help unsaddle the horses. When he approaches, Arthur greets him with a smile and shoves some hunting spears into his arms as he discusses their catches of the day. The others chip in parts of the story, and Merlin just watches them, smiling fondly. _Yeah_ , he thinks, _this is okay_.


End file.
